Clean
by EndlessBlue
Summary: Mara Jade's life, in vignettes.
1. Conversation

**A/N:** I've only just started this series, and updates may be sporadic, but it's my hope that this will be a lengthy exploration of Mara's life. These will be chronological.

Details may be at times intentionally vague, but this first vignette takes place when Mara is approximately 6-8 years old.

If there are any specific moments/scenes you want included in this series, please let me know. I have no real outline of how this will develop, so I'm open to suggestions.

Thanks for reading.

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><p><strong>Conversation<strong>

She screwed up her nose and turned her head.

"But I don't _want _to study."

"Mara, you must."

"No."

"You know how important this is."

"No it isn't."

"No? Then why does the Emperor wish you to learn?"

A pause. This was a trap and she was angry at herself for walking into it. Her tutor tried on a patient smile, but Mara could sense the steel beneath it. "The Emperor knows best what you need. Don't you believe that?"

"Yes."

"Then-"

"But why history and geography and science and...why can't I just do my target practice? I _like _blasters."

The tutor chuckled. Always kind. Always firm.

"Of course you do, Mara. You have a talent for marksmanship. The Emperor greatly approves. But in order to put those skills to use, you must have a target. And in order to accomplish your mission, you must know all about your target – where it comes from, what it knows, what it does. This knowledge will ensure your safety as well."

"Master says my safety is of no concern."

"True. We would all lay down our lives for the Empire. The Emperor himself has sacrificed so much for it. But how much better it would be to succeed in your goal while also staying alive!"

She frowned. Folded her arms over her chest. "I guess."

"The Emperor does not wish you to come to harm, young one. You are so very valuable to him."

Silence. Her scowl glided by degrees into something more neutral. Her tutor leaned closer. "We would never want to fail the Emperor, Mara. Never. You know what happens to people who disappoint him?"

A whisper. "I don't want to disappoint him. It's not that..."

"I know, Mara. I know. There are many things we must do that aren't enjoyable, things we would never do by choice. Teaching history is not my favorite way to spend time."

She met his eyes swiftly, surprised. "No?"

Another chuckle. "No. But I do it because I know how important it is. And in time you'll come to appreciate the necessity, too. I know you will. The Emperor knows, too."

She idly flipped through the pages of an ancient tome, still not interested, but resigned. "Yeah. The Emperor knows everything."

"That's right, Mara. He knows everything. That's why we want to obey him. He knows what we need, what the galaxy needs. It's so great a burden he bears for our sakes, Mara. We must do what we can to help him. We must not disappoint him."

'No' she mouthed, too absorbed in the _snik-snik-snik _of the falling pages to give a better answer.


	2. Grinding Stone

**A/N: **Mara can be tricky. EU authors have at times mishandled her character, altered it, lowered it, simplified it. Truth is, she's a very complicated person dealing with complex issues. It's my hope that I'll be able to write her as she truly is: damaged, with original faults lying beneath her childhood traumas, and with faults on top of that trauma and issues caused by the twisted world she grew up in.

If you see any inconsistencies, or if you see any behaviors you don't understand or that seem out of character, please let me know, and give me reasons for disagreeing with my way of writing her. I've noticed that Mara fans can have wildly different opinions on who she "really" is, and while I may not agree with some of them, I do find these different ideas interesting and perhaps useful. This series is as much for me as it is for my readers - an attempt for me to try to truly understand her and dig through all those layers of her history, to see how each chapter in her life has affected her.

What especially intrigues me is her relationship with Luke. I didn't like how Mara was written in the years between 'The Last Command' and 'Specter of the Past,' and her interactions with Luke (and Luke's OOCness in itself) made things more frustrating. But those books are considered canon, aren't they? Well. We'll see how those chapters go. For now, I'm still exploring her childhood, and we may be here for a while.

Vignettes will vacillate between brief and simple/pure conversation pieces to pieces that are longer, more detailed, stream-of-thought. It depends on my mood and the subject. Just don't get used to one style, is what I'm saying, because it may get switched up.

Big thanks to all who are reading, and a special thanks to my reviewers. I hope this series doesn't disappoint.

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><p><strong>Grinding Stone<strong>

"You did not do well enough on your exam to warrant an audience with the Emperor. He is surprised, Mara. He thought you would do better."

Something white-hot burned its way up her throat, into her sinuses, her eyes. She kept her head bowed.

"The Emperor wishes you to know that you cannot leave the room today or tomorrow. He wants so badly for you to succeed, Mara. It's so very important to him - to all of us. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and tried to stay in control. But as the silence sat heavy and the seconds ticked by, she felt a tear start to crawl onto her lip, and she couldn't hold back a wet sniff.

"Yes - I know. It makes you sad. You are disappointed in yourself. It is only natural. We are sad, too. We thought you were smarter."

"I _am _smart!" she yelled, and she didn't notice how tightly she'd fisted her right hand (blaster hand, though her trainer is trying to make her ambidextrous) until she started to tremble, started to rigidly shake with the hot flush of anger.

Her tutor tilted his head down, clasped his hands in front of him. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Mara watched it through blurry eyes. Twitch. Twitch.

"Do you even know which question you missed?"

(_disynchronate 3: a complex polymer of synthetic chlorides, to be combined with typical acids to achieve certain lethality, applicable to all oxygen-based respiratory systems; mark all of the chemical properties below that could enhance its effectiveness) –_

Whatever. She knew she only missed a question because she didn't study enough. That's _all. _

"I'll retake the test."

"Yes, of course you will. And failure will not be accepted this time. If your scores do not improve, the Center will expel you. The Emperor has no use for a below-average student."

Agape, she stared. Her tutor stared back, unruffled. She narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down, seeing all the pressure points she'd been taught about, points on the body she could use to disable, even kill.

The tutor shifted, the barest hint of unease showing through at being so obviously studied. "Do not think you can harm me."

She turned her head away and sneered. "Think you could stop me?" She was already learning so much about the frailty of the human body. She believed in herself.

"Is that a threat?"

Silence.

"The Emperor will be displeased to hear of this. It is not your place to question your superiors. It is not your place to threaten us. We will crush that stubborn streak out of you, Mara Jade."

A frisson of fear ran up her spine. She tried to shrug it away. "I said I'll retake the test. And I'll study harder. I'll pass, and I'll keep getting better, and we won't ever have to have this stupid conversation again."

"Oh, certainly not."

When he left, she slumped over and let out a trembling breath. She hated being scolded. She hated herself for failing. But now the damage was done – she should have held her tongue, checked her temper. Her master had told her it was a weakness.

The tutor let her sit for two hours by herself, let her think and worry, let just enough time pass to raise her hopes that her punishment would be light – and then it came. One guard, dressed in crimson. _All we ever need is one, Mara. Remember that next time you feel the need to lash out. You are always outnumbered. Always. _

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. Worry turned immediately to panic when the red guard reached for her arm. "I said I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Tell him I'm sorry! No, please-"


	3. Grace

**A/N: **A brief update. The next few chapters are longer though, I promise.

This series won't be all about punishment and torture and ugly manipulation. Mostly, yes, but not all. So if the content of this chapter isn't to your liking - why are you surprised? This is Mara Jade! No, but seriously - the physical aspects of Mara's training are not always going to be so...detailed.

Also, thanks again to my reviewers and to everyone who's following this story. It means a lot when you take the time to leave a review.

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><p><strong>Grace<strong>

"En pointe, Mara."

The room was such that two people were insignificant in its space. Every wall was mirrored. Every movement was a hush. The dancer stood with arms folded. Impatient.

Ligament, tendon, muscle, bone – every cell struggled. Exhaustion was no stranger to her now, but the more physical elements of her training kept giving her new walls to hit. She fought to keep her breath as she forced trembling legs to tense, pull, tighten, lift, lift, _lift -_

Her ankles gave way under the strain, and she hit the floor, on her knees, bent over and shaking so hard that her teeth chattered.

The dancer sighed. "On your feet, Mara."

_Can't_. The word stuck in the back of her throat, where it would stay. Where it would always stay. She bit her lip, let out a muffled scream, and pushed herself up. She stood on swollen, bloody feet. She gave up trying to pace her breathing – every inspiration was a gasp that collapsed her chest and choked. The wet sound echoed at the edges of the room. She couldn't remember how many hours this lesson had lasted. It felt like days.

_First: stretches, always painful, always pushing beyond her limits; Director insists on the Syndari method, says it gets the fastest results_.

_Leg work. Endless cycles of plies, jumps, arabesques. Girls your age aren't normally capable of pointe, Mara, but you have to be better. You have to be the best. Pain is secondary. On your toes, Mara. En pointe. _

There was no conscious thought. Her mind was blank, inoperable, silent, replaced with the driving need to lay down and rest.

The dancer had not moved. "En pointe."

The command marched through her blood.

Her toes had gone numb, though her calves were still burning in a constant cramp. She lifted her head and saw her reflection in the mirror-wall, met her own eyes as she locked her feet into the proper stance and again began to rise, and again began to tremble violently as though her muscles were coming apart at the seams, and again she screamed into a closed mouth. She concentrated on making the rest of her body take up as much of the strain as it could – suddenly felt bile rise in her throat - and she kept lifting, kept tightening...

The very moment she rose to her toes, she fell. She landed on her side, and had just enough presence of mind to turn her face to the floor before starting to heave.

"That's all for today. You are dismissed."

The dancer's footsteps whispered away.

Mara rolled away from the puddle of bile and blood, curled into herself, and slept.


	4. Horizon

**A/N: **And now we have a moment with the Emperor. I felt a little shaky on this one. Maybe it's just some natural discomfort with writing someone as evil as Palpatine. Let me know what you think.

Thank you so much to everyone who continues to follow this, and especially to those who review.

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><p><strong>Horizon<strong>

_ I will teach you everything there is to know about the Force, child. No one knows its secrets as I do. No one has mastered it as I have._

Searing heat. Hissing, grasping shadows. Fingers picked through her brain, as nimble and confident as a bird spearing the water for prey. She shuddered, but kept her silence.

He told her to relax. He told her to open herself fully to him, to submit and succumb to him, to welcome his presence in her mind.

"You should be eager to receive me."

She screwed her eyes shut and tried to be eager.

"You are afraid."

_Yes_

"Good. Good. Feel the fear burning in the pit of your stomach. It is spreading..."

She felt it. The sensation of his mind scouring hers, prying it apart, hot yellow sulfur seeking and leaking into every crevice like spilled acid -

"Fear is not the enemy. It is a pathway to anger. It is the threshold of freedom. Do you fear me?"

Inside her mind, the acid began to eat away at the edges of her consciousness, and – buried in the quicksand of his presence – she screamed a _yes. _

"That burning ache to escape can be used. Fan the flame. Burn yourself alive in its power. _Do you fear me, Mara Jade_?"

_Yes get out, please get out_

"It is surging within you. It has engulfed you. I feel it, child. Use it. Feed it, and let it grow-"

_Please get out, get out-_

"_Do you fear me, Mara Jade?_"

Her inner world began to crack, little stress fractures, spidering within her head. The pressure was immense.

_Do you fear me, Mara Jade?_

And now the pressure was his voice. She vibrated with its pitch. _Use it. Feed it. You want to run, but you cannot. You ache to be free..._

She was suffocating. The weight of the universe had settled inside her skull, and she was disappearing, crushed beneath.

_Fear is a pathway to anger. Your anger is your gift. Use it._

Twisting, kicking, pulling, flailing, she screamed, but the dense wall of his presence swallowed the sound before it could be heard.

_Fan the flame. Feed it. Give in. Fight! _

Like a lit fuse finding its end, she exploded.

There was a split second where she saw an expanse of pure white, a flood of energy -

And then she opened her eyes. The Emperor stood inches away, hands hovering at either side of her head. "At last...you understand."

She was shaking. Tears scored her cheeks. All she could do was stare, wide-eyed, into the yellow, searching gaze of her master.

He let his arms fall back to his sides and took a step back, and let out a cackling laugh. "You purged me from your mind, Mara. You threw me out and slammed the door in my face. No – be calm, child. I am pleased. You obeyed me. You listened, and you succeeded in fighting me off."

She could not comprehend such a thing being possible. "N-no," she muttered through a locked jaw and stiff lips.

"Indeed," he answered slowly, patiently. "You could never hope to defeat me. If I wanted inside your mind, Mara, you would never be able to stop me. But I made a small attempt, and you managed to protect yourself. I hoped to show you what you are capable of. You will hold many secrets for me, child. I need to ensure that you will be able to keep them."

She shook her head. Nothing made sense. She still hummed with the memory of the pain, the pressure, the fear, hard, twisted hands digging through her mind-

Her master's smile faded, his lips settling into a hard, thin line. "Our enemies will use any means necessary to break you. I will teach you to resist. Your mind will become a vault, and only you and I shall have the key. But this will require more of you, Mara. The Force does not yield to weakness."

She bowed her head. _The Force_ – that shrouded, shadowed thing – was her gift. But it was a gift she did not understand.

The pressure of his mind within hers began to build again, but only to a fraction of what it had been. She struggled to welcome it.

"I could grant you no greater privilege, child." His voice echoed in every corner. And then she heard it again, buzzing between her eyes – her master, speaking within her own mind. _I will teach you the ways of the Force. _


	5. The Spider, As It Spins

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who's following this story, and to those who have taken the time to review.

This vignette establishes Mara's age, so you can see I've covered years 6-10 so far. I plan to take about the same pace through her teenage years, and then spend substantially more time with her post-ROTJ. And not just because I want to write a lot of Luke/Mara scenes (though that is the main reason).

Thanks again for reading.

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><p><strong>The Spider, As It Spins<strong>

"Don't speak, Mara. Just watch."

The lower levels of the Palace were painted white. Hall after hall of pristine, blinding white. She'd been to the Detention Level once before on an errand for her master, but she hadn't seen much – and really, there wasn't much to see. Every room looked the same.

Including Interrogation Room A-3. She and the Chief stood in a cramped space empty of everything but themselves and a prisoner, shackled, sitting awkwardly with his knees splayed and his head bowed.

"State your crime," Chief said.

The prisoner looked up through a matted fringe of hair. His brown, bloodshot eyes wandered from his interrogator. Mara fought back a grimace when his gaze locked on hers.

Her presence confused the prisoner, she could tell. It _would_ be weird, she thought, to have a ten year-old girl observe your interrogation. But Chief said he had a special lesson for her, _Your real introduction to the world of Intelligence, Mara. This is where your training begins._

She hadn't questioned it. Now she simply obeyed, and watched and said nothing.

"State your crime."

The prisoner continued to stare at Mara. She stared back.

"We have all the evidence," Chief said, sounding tired, bored, though his posture was ramrod straight, as always. "We have copies of the messages you sent. We know where those messages went. If you confess, if you cooperate, we will be lenient."

The prisoner shook his head, slow and ponderous, and finally his gaze lost focus and wandered back to the floor. Mara wondered how coherent he really was.

"Final chance."

Again, he shook his head.

The Chief spoke to her without looking away from the prisoner. "Insurrectionists are few and far between this close to Imperial City, but they _do _exist, as do their sympathizers. Their groups are loosely organized and often suffer from fighting within their own ranks. They pose no real threat, but their existence cannot be tolerated. We always attempt to extract information from prisoners, Mara. Information is everything. A handful of facts can prove to be more valuable than even a fleet of Star Destroyers."

He paused, allowing time for her to absorb the lesson. "We have done all we can with this one, however. He has outlived his usefulness."

He reached down and drew his blaster pistol from its holster, and held it out to Mara.

It was clear what he wanted her to do. There could be no other meaning behind his gesture, so she took the blaster and let her arm fall back to her side. The weapon was light, its weight familiar to her hand. She'd trained with every blaster the Empire produced and then some, and she was no stranger to the 22T4 model that Intel favored (_0.5 kilograms, 6-shot capacity, non-precise targeting, manufactured for close-range firing). _She waited, trying to find a space to stare at that didn't contain the Chief or the prisoner, but that wouldn't make her look like she was avoiding either of them.

"Two shots to the head, Mara."

Her throat closed up. Her stomach twisted so suddenly and painfully that she had a brief moment of panic that she might be sick right here in the interrogation room. Her hand tightened around the pistol.

Just like target practice. She'd taken a thousand shots _just like this_.

She felt an indescribably strong urge to look up at Chief for reassurance – but that would be a sign of weakness, which she could not allow.

She'd been given an order. _The Emperor deserves nothing less than your complete obedience._

She could not hesitate any longer. She could not be weak.

_Can't_-

Chief waited, saying nothing, as if being patient with her. That stung. Mara Jade did not require anyone's _patience. _

Just like target practice, she raised her right arm, supported her wrist with her left hand, aimed, and fired.

Once.

Twice.


	6. Seed and Spread

**A/N: **I won't say I'm entirely satisfied with this chapter, but it does explore one of the ways Palpatine may have manipulated Mara into complete loyalty. I think I was influenced by the Opera House scene in ROTS, by the way Palpatine introduced his brutal and shocking ideas with such nonchalance, an "Oh, you mean you didn't know?" kind of manner. I think he used this tactic with Mara in persuading her to believe that the violence inherent in her duties was entirely natural and universally accepted; that it was, in fact, fair and just, and it was only the morally corrupt who believed otherwise.

To everyone who's following this fic or who has left a review: Thank you. I hope this story doesn't disappoint.

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><p><strong>Seed and Spread<strong>

The map was one-of-a-kind. Hand-spun silk, the blackest of black, stretched across a framework of Wofari wood, in itself a rarity since the species had been extinct for well-over a century. The planets and suns were made of precious metals, beaten to dull their shine and reduce their reflections to a soft, diffuse glow. Trade routes were marked by the thinnest ribbons of the Alderaanian glimmer snake's skin, prized for its incandescence and deep, jewel-tone colors. Crushed diamonds scattered across the silk enhanced the hazy, glittering effect.

No one was allowed to touch it, of course, but Mara was content to sit at a distance and just look.

"What do you see, Mara Jade?"

She bowed her head slightly, the only visible reaction to being surprised by the Emperor's presence. _He is everywhere_, they'd said, and she had long ago learned to believe it. The Emperor was all-seeing, ever-present. She had long ago lost any trace of fear she might have first had of him, though she could not fully remember a time when he had not been known to her.

She was like a child to him, he said. _You are favored above all others._

She stood to bow to her master.

He was wreathed in shadows. His heavy robes disappeared into the dark corner in which he stood. His cane was absent - it was merely a ruse, anyway, designed to mislead his enemies into underestimating his strength. Despite his feeble appearance - and indeed, his weakening body - her master was still the most powerful man in the galaxy. He never used the cane in private, and never with her. She knew better. She was different.

Her master didn't acknowledge her bow, but kept his eyes on her, a piercing yellow gaze that searched and always, _always _knew what she was feeling. But what had once been a terrifying realization (_You cannot hide, Mara. You can never hide yourself from me) _was now a comfort. He understood her as no one else ever could.

She twisted her head around to look behind her at the map and said, "It's pretty. Not very accurate, though."

"No?"

"The Rimma Trade Route doesn't run so close to the Hydian Way; not until it reaches the edges of the Mid Rim." She shrugged, confident in her knowledge. Her education at the Imperial Palace was second-to-none. It could be nothing less, not when her training was to the direct benefit of the Emperor.

Her master stepped past her to trace the map with pale, gnarled fingers. "Is that all you see? Superficialities? Inaccuracies?"

There was no disapproval in his voice. Only curiosity, a leading tone that meant he was waiting to take the conversation in another direction. Mara drew nearer.

"What else should I see, Master?"

"Hm...what do you think _I _see when I look at this map?"

Mara knew there was an etiquette inherent in addressing the Emperor. She knew that there were many lines not to be crossed, and those lines were very clear. But she was above that. Her master had always encouraged her to speak her mind, to not be afraid of saying the wrong thing. He knew her thoughts already.

So she looked at the map and said the first thing that came to her mind: "Power."

She was rewarded with a laugh - brief, warm. Her master patted the top of her head and nodded.

"Quite right, child. This massive expanse of stars and planets and people are all turning, all orbiting around _me_, all dependent on what I do and say. Do you think it tires me, Mara?"

She glanced up at her master, but could only see the tip of his nose, as the rest of his face was hidden by the cowl of his robe. "No," she said. "But I think it'd get kind of irritating."

His shoulders jumped with a quiet laugh. "To one without absolute power, perhaps. There are many who try to threaten my rule, Mara, many who wish to destroy me, destroy this Empire just so _they _can be in control. And they'll drag the entire galaxy down into war and chaos to get that control. To a lesser being, these might be irritations, frustrations. To me - they are opportunities."

She blinked in confusion and looked back at the map, at its soft glow and glittering pinpoints. The hand on her head shifted down to her shoulder. His voice took on a dreamy quality, as though he was looking at distant memories, or perhaps the future.

"There is a particular pleasure, child, that comes from destroying your enemies. Without enemies, there would be no battle, and without battle, there would be no victory. For every life you take in my name...that is one more victory. One more message to those who seek to ruin the Empire. One more triumph for _peace_. It must be experienced to be understood. And I - I have such experience. I have such understanding. And it is my hope that you, one day, will have it as well."

He did not look down to see if she comprehended. He did not look at her at all. Her master stared at the map for a long, still moment, and then turned to vanish back into the shadows of the hall.

Mara stared at the planets long after he had left, lost in thought, lost in the power and importance of being the Emperor's Hand, of being his justice, his victory - and feeling as if the galaxy was somehow spinning around her, too, a great and glorious burden that she had been chosen to bear.


	7. The Acquisition of Habits

**A/N: **I apologize for the delay in updating. This chapter is just my attempt at taking things a bit slower than is my tendency, to make myself take time with this stage in Mara's life. In this chapter, we can see Mara's in-born and partly-bred attitude of superiority, her bullish personality, coming to the fore and her high opinion of herself getting her into a bit of trouble. Charming, she is not.

Thanks again to everyone who is following this story, and especially to those who have reviewed.

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><p><strong>The Acquisition of Habits<strong>

They were a bunch of amateurs. She didn't know why they even bothered.

Their hand work was sloppy, their feet – clumsy. Just a group of boys trying to prove who was the toughest. She smirked as she walked past.

Her combat trainers often let her observe the practice sessions of other units, telling her that such observation was crucial in understanding the advantages and disadvantages inherent to different styles of hand-to-hand combat. (_We'll practice these maneuvers until they become instinct, Mara. Until they are as natural and expected as the next breath you take.)_ Today the Specs were training, men from the Storm Commando unit, but a few of the more influential politicians and moffs always managed to get their sons into the arena, too, brash, cocky boys who had nothing better to do than pretend that they were good enough to practice with the elite military units. Almost all of them were on the fast-track to commissions in the Imperial Navy. None of them had done anything to earn it.

And they were all terrible fighters. But who you were seen with was more important sometimes that what you were seen doing, and Mara knew it was a fact of every organization. Her sociology tutor had brought her here himself one day to explain how delicate these power plays could be, and how deeply they were insinuated into every aspect of the Empire's hierarchies. Her contempt had been beyond expression.

Apparently everyone had been instructed not to ask about her or try to engage her in conversation, so she usually enjoyed free, undisturbed hours where she could watch and learn. Occasionally her trainers would even let her spar with some of the officers – it was always a lesson in humiliation, because the officers never went easy on her. But every defeat was another learning experience. And she was getting better.

In fact, she'd planned to get Lt. Sohn to join her on the mat today. He'd given her a beating last time, and she wanted to make sure he knew that it would be one of the last times she let it happen.

"What's that kid doing here? Hey, little girl, you lost?"

The boys – apparently fresh blood, cadets who had never seen her around before. She didn't stop, but deigned to throw a sneer their way.

But she hadn't made it three steps before she felt a hand come down on her shoulder - and without thinking, she grabbed it, stepped one foot back to center her weight, and _pulled_ (_as expected as the next breath you take)_. As the boy's own weight shifted forward, she snaked her right ankle around his left, twisted him around, and heard his body meet the floor with a loud _smack. _

It was a series of movements lasting less than two seconds, and by the time it was over Mara still hadn't fully registered what she'd done.

She stared down at the boy – what must he be, eighteen, nineteen? - as he blinked up at the ceiling, stunned, gasping to get his breath back. The others gaped at her, making no move to help their friend.

She stared a few moments more, body still tensed, still wired in defense-mode – and noticed that the room had gone silent. The other recruits and trainers had paused, some even still tangled up with each other on the mats, and all eyes were on her.

An officer jogged over – a captain, she recalled, vaguely certain that his name started with a 'T' – and looked at her, then at the boy now struggling to get to his knees. He gave the others a hard stare. "Look, I don't know who you kids are, and I don't care. Keep messin' with this one, and you'll land yourselves in a whole heap of trouble."

The cadets began to protest. "What-!"

"And you -" The officer pointed a finger at Mara. "Don't make trouble for yourself, either. I know your supervisors won't like to hear about this."

"I'm not _supervised_," she muttered. "And I didn't start anything. I know better." She pulled a face at the cadets, who were still red-faced and starting to look nervous. "Unlike them." But she nodded at the captain, the best apology she could muster, and even this small act of deference caused something deep inside her to scrape and burn. She winced. "I just came here for a match against one of your men. If that's okay...?"

He held her gaze for a moment longer, clearly unhappy about having to make allowances to some prepubescent girl. But he knew, if not _who _she was, then _what _she was, and that was all that mattered. He gave her a nod.

She lost to the lieutenant again, which did not surprise her, but her speed had improved, and though she walked away with a bloody nose, she was proud to note that Lt. Sohn had received more than a few bruises of his own. On her way out of the training arena she passed by the cadets again. None of them would meet her eye.


	8. Efficiency

**A/N: **Finally, an update! Here we cover another aspect of Mara's training. Heir to the Empire introduced us to Mara as a skilled and more than competent pilot. I explore the origins of that competency in this little chapter. Apologies for its brevity; a longer chapter follows.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. The encouragement is greatly appreciated.

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><p><strong> Efficiency<strong>

"That was a very inventive use of the Dejak-Flip maneuver, Mara." Her flight instructor peered at her over the rim of his datapad. "However, you did rip apart your stabilizers in the attempt. Not to mention the hull breech and damage to your left wing."

She shrugged, eying him back. "Worked, didn't it?"

"Yes," he sighed, glancing down at the datapad, no doubt scrolling through the statistics the flight simulator compiled. "All in all, it was a satisfactory exercise. I do wish that you'd take greater care, though. You can't run through real starfighters like you can in the sim."

"No?"

He looked back up at her, frowning – and the disapproval turned into mild annoyance when he saw the glimmer in her eyes, the smirk on her mouth. "Really, Mara, do be more careful. If your enemy had survived the hit to his main thrusters, you would have been a sitting ta-"

"He didn't survive. That was the point."

"You won't always be so fortunate."

"It wasn't fortune. It was skill."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. She clenched her teeth and felt her own irritation mounting. "I take my missions seriously, Commander. If I'm ordered to remove an enemy, whether it be on the ground or in the sky, I'm going to make it happen - even if I have to go through a hundred gunships to do it."

He sighed again and seemed to loosen. "Your dedication is commendable."

She gritted through a tight smile. "Thank you, sir."

"But there _are_ more...elegant ways of removing your opponents."

"I can do elegant, sir, if it's necessary. I just prefer to get straight to the killing while the killing's good." She began to tap her foot, restless to be out of the debriefing room and back to her training.

The commander saw it, nodded, and set the datapad down on his desk. "Understandable. You're free to go."

"Thank you, sir." She offered a stiff salute and stood to leave after the salute was returned, but paused in the doorway. "Elegant..." The commander looked up. She threw him a smile, half-conciliatory, half-mischievous. "I'll try to keep it in mind."


	9. Detour

**A/N: **Another moment with the Emperor and his manipulations.

Thanks again to everyone who has been following this story. I'm going to try to be faster about these updates, but I have a couple of other writing projects that will take priority until they are due in March - please bear with me in the meantime.

And please leave me a review. I'd love to know what you readers are thinking!

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><p><strong>Detour<strong>

"We aren't having a lesson today?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Why?"

A sigh. His hand skimmed his hip where she knew a lightsaber hung, always hidden beneath his robes, its existence revealed to only a select few, to his most trusted servants. "There are many things I wished to teach you, Mara."

She frowned. Her eyes stayed transfixed on the cloth that draped over the lightsaber, that amazing, utterly brilliant weapon she'd been allowed to see only twice. A red blade. Humming with death. Unstoppable.

"I will learn anything you wish to teach me, Master."

"Of course, of course. But some things are beyond your reach, child."

She stiffened, and lifted her eyes to his. "_What _things?"

"Do not mistake the truth for anything more than what it is. I am not questioning your talents. Everyone simply has their limits, Mara. You must acknowledge them to understand them. And understanding your limits, your weaknesses – well, that is part of your strength."

"But you said I must not _have _any weaknesses."

Her master looked askance at her, and said, sadly, "Through our sessions together – when I saw into your mind and blood - I have discovered...I'm afraid you are...something _less _than what I expected."

She felt her knees nearly give out. "What-?"

"Relax, child. Calm yourself. You have lived up to my every desire, my every test. You are everything that I need. Just...not all that I wanted."

Tears welled in her eyes – not tears caused by a blow to the face, or a glancing hit from a blaster during practice – tears that came from a place deep inside, a place where fears and insecurities still lived in what little space had been left for them. A place she didn't like to acknowledge even existed. "I don't understand."

Her master strode past her toward a tall window that let in a sliver of light. She followed, stumbling on legs that had suddenly lost all their grace.

Sunset. The sky was orange. Its light cast a fine haze over her eyes, a veil through which she stared at her master.

"The Force chooses only a few. Rare is the one who can sense its flow, and rarer still is the one who can harness it. You, Mara Jade, have been touched with this gift..." Her master sighed deeply, and she felt its echo within her own chest. "But its power is beyond your reach." He turned yellow, tired eyes on her. "This is not your fault, Mara. You are not to be blamed."

His smile was thin, and not enough to placate her. The Force...she didn't care about the _Force_, it had only ever been some vague, disconnected idea that her master spoke of, that he had tried to explain to her with heavy words and oppressive, frightening brushes of his mind against hers. But she would not let some abstract philosophy stand in her way. "There must be something, _something _I can do to be better, to be what you want-"

His reply was hard and flat. "There is nothing."

She swallowed back her arguments. His features softened. "Do not fear, child. You will always have value to me. And your future at my side is a certainty. I could ask for no more loyal a creature than you."

She bowed her head, mind still skipping on the same words, catching and repeating, _something less than what I expected something less something less...  
><em>

"But there are still some aspects of the Force in which I can train you, Mara. Skills someone with your lower aptitude might still learn and use."

Determination flared in her breast. She took a step closer to the Emperor. "There are?"

He smiled again, more sincerely this time. "You are so eager to learn. It is a joy to teach you."

"What skills?" she persisted, seeing now a chance to overcome those _limitations _her master had spoken of, a way to compensate, to ensure her place at the Emperor's side.

His hand hovered near the lightsaber.

"In time, Mara Jade. In time."


	10. Slope

**A/N: **Another dark chapter. I tend to believe that Mara was used as an assassin at a very young age, since waiting until she was older could have presented some problems, psychologically speaking. She needed to be immersed in the violence from early on (and she was, logging her first unofficial kill at around ten years old), so that later, when she's developing into a more independent-minded adult, this behavior and moral outlook is so engrained that the greater level of understanding one attains with age won't erode her training.

That being said, can you guess what this chapter is about?

Thanks for reading, and please leave me a review to let me know what you think.

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><p>She hadn't expected to be nervous, and she wasn't. Her first assignment was nothing complicated – a senator was getting greedy, and needed to be removed.<p>

It was technically illegal to mess with someone under fifteen standard years old, but a lot of illegal things happened in the Imperial Palace, and Mara didn't blink twice when she was told that the senator would be waiting for her in his apartments for a 'private talk.' She didn't ask questions. It was an easy way in, and that was enough.

The senator was indeed waiting for her, and wasted no time in grabbing her hand and pulling her to a seat beside him. He touched her lips, smiled. "You are _beautiful_," he said.

She felt her teeth grinding – she didn't like to be touched by anyone, let alone someone as repulsive as this man – but managed to hold her temper. She had specific instructions as to how he was to be dispatched. It wouldn't do to go overboard on her first assignment.

"Turn around," she said.

His smile faded a little. "I'm sorry?"

She attempted a coy shrug. "I want to try something. You'll like it."

He raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, twisting slowly to expose his back to her. Mara reached into her hair – expertly coiffed, in a style like the real courtesans wear – and slid out a jeweled pin. "Close your eyes," she said.

It took less than a second to locate the precise spot where her weapon would do the most effective damage. She flipped the pin in her hand so that the sharp end pointed up, and in one swift motion, plunged it into the base of his skull, where it split his spinal cord and eventually lodged in his brain. There was very little bleeding. The senator slumped over without a sound.

She stood up, eager to put some distance between herself and the carcass – not because she was afraid of death, but because she knew he was going to start to smell pretty soon – and waited a minute to be sure he was dead. The low lights in the apartment struck the twin jewels of her hairpin. They glittered where they lay, still wedged against the flesh of his neck.

Mara left the way she came in. The secretary was gone, as Intel said he always was when the senator's toys came to be played with. She didn't see anyone until she reached the lift in the main hall. A middle-aged woman was inside, and held the door for Mara.

The number for the first floor was already lit up, so she stood with her hands loose at her sides, and in the quiet she realized that her fingers were tingling. Adrenaline. It was the first rush of nerves she'd felt in a long time.

"Isn't it a bit late for you to be out by yourself?" the woman asked. She sounded kind.

Mara didn't answer. She stared straight ahead, counting the floors as they passed.


	11. Gain, Lose, Take

**A/N: **At last! An update! I apologize for the wait, but I had a deadline to meet on another project, so now that it's out of the way, I can focus on this story again.

Time for Mara to make a new friend! Wait...Mara doesn't really do the whole friendship thing very well, does she?

Thanks again to my readers, and especially to those who have taken the time to leave a review (you faithful people, you). 3

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><p>She felt the hair on her arms lift, felt the prickling on her skin, the shiver that ran <em>up<em> her spine instead of down: It was his presence. It pooled at the base of her neck, buzzed in her mind – white noise. She was used to it. She felt the same sensations when she was near the Emperor, or when his voice was speaking within her mind. Her master's power was so pervasive – and she was so attuned to it – that just stepping foot in the Palace was enough to feel his presence settle over like some dark, fine gauze.

She used to think that only the Emperor had that effect. Now she knew better.

The hulking black figure knelt at her master's feet. The Sith Lord. Supposedly the Emperor's most trusted servant.

Darth Vader.

She knew all about him, of course. Intel had given her a thorough education, and had even gone so far as to warn her about him. _Her. _The Emperor's Hand. She had met that warning with detached interest. Intel knew what she was capable of. Their chief had personally overseen a great deal of her training. If they thought it wise for her to stay on her toes around the dark lord, she would certainly mind the advice.

But she was not afraid of him. Curious, yes. Vader had been trained by the Emperor in the Sith arts. It was rumored he was second in power only to his master. She was also well aware of the Rule of Two, and that Sith apprentices always tried to overthrow their masters.

She would be on her toes for more than one reason.

"You will serve him as you serve me," the Emperor had told her. "But remember – your allegiance is never in question. He knows that you report to me. Everything he does around you will be carefully orchestrated, because he must hide certain things from his master."

"He is a traitor?" she had asked, disgusted, horrified.

The Emperor had smiled. "Deceit," he answered, "is the way of the Sith. Do not underestimate him."

Now, seeing Vader in person, Mara felt she would never make that mistake. His size alone was impressive, and his presence in the Force was a bright, crackling thing, nearly as compelling as the Emperor's. She closed her eyes and tried to stretch out to him as her master had taught her, to get a better sense of him – but all she felt was darkness, thick and heavy. His intentions were as thoroughly masked as his face, his thoughts and feelings as cloaked as his body.

She was the only witness to this meeting between Vader and the Emperor. The Sith Lord had just arrived from the Mid Rim after a successful campaign against a faction of Jedi who had managed to survive the purges. The Emperor spoke in low tones, no doubt congratulating his apprentice.

She stood in the shadows of the throne room, and waited.

Eventually, the Emperor gestured for Vader to stand, and as he rose, his massive frame sending a long shadow down the marble floor, he turned his head in her direction. Mara figured he had sensed her presence the moment he'd strode into the throne room, and now he was expecting an introduction.

"Come, child," her master commanded. She obeyed immediately, stepping into the pink veil of the twilight that was falling over this side of Coruscant. When she reached the throne, she knelt and kept her head bowed until she was told to rise. In this, she thought, she and Vader were equal. Commander of the Imperial Fleet Vader might be, but they both answered to their master.

"Lord Vader, this girl is at your disposal. She has been trained well. You will not find her abilities lacking."

The casual manner in which the Emperor spoke rankled Mara, but she was not unfamiliar with being sidelined, belittled, ignored. It was a necessary part of her existence. For the Emperor's purposes, she would have no identity beyond what was allowed in private conferences and in the moments of solitude she was given between her lessons, training, and missions.

She had to admit, though, that being given to Lord Vader like so much equipment was more irritating than usual.

This, however – like everything – was a test. Her master was looking at Vader, but she knew that he was seeing _her. _Searching her out, studying her reaction. Her temper still sometimes got the best of her, but right now, she was determined not to give her weakness away, especially to a man she knew she couldn't trust.

"Mara Jade," Vader said. His voice, deepened by the mechanical rebreather, burrowed into her bones. "I must commend you for your loyal service to the Emperor. I know an obedient mind such as yours will not hesitate to follow my orders as well as you do his."

A threat. A tidy little gauntlet, thrown at her feet. She barely masked a sneer, and, not trusting her ability at the moment to speak with sincerity, gave him a slight bow of acknowledgment.

"She will not disappoint you, Lord Vader," her master said, now gazing on Mara with open approval. "You may go, Mara. Await Lord Vader's orders."

"Yes, Master," she replied. She bowed, and turned smartly to offer Vader a nod of her head and a murmured, "Lord Vader."

As soon as she started walking away, she heard the conversation behind her move on. Her jaw tightened as she mulled over the Emperor's command to be at his apprentice's disposal. Certainly, whatever mission the dark lord was tasked with would be one of importance, and she should feel honored to be serving with someone so highly ranked. But she was used to following only her master's orders. She was used to working alone, making her own plans, forming and executing her missions by herself. And judging by the rumors circulating in the palace, Lord Vader was not the easiest man to work with.

Her pride also hadn't taken well to the manner in which Vader had accepted her so readily as a subordinate. Most of the people she came into contact with dismissed her as a nobody, just another dancer worth nothing outside of a party, but those people didn't anger her. Far from it, she was amused and gratified by their contempt. The senators and bureaucrats all thought they were contributing something meaningful and important to the Empire, when the truth was they were only pawns, useful only so far as they could be manipulated. Mara did not envy them. She did not need nor did she desire their recognition.

But Lord Vader _was _meaningful. He was Somebody, a large and essential cog in the wheel her master had created. And he had looked down on her like all the Nobodies did. He had treated her as another disposable servant.

He didn't know her, she assured herself. He didn't know who she was. He certainly didn't know what she was capable of, or how special she was to the Emperor.

Intel could go take a flying leap. She wasn't about to back down before Vader.

She ignored the two Imperial Guards who allowed her out of the throne room and stalked down the great hall, her blood already beginning to heat. Soon it would be at full boil, and there was only one thing that would calm her again.

When she reached the sparring rooms, she saw the area was empty of personnel. She flicked the switch on three training droids. As they powered on, she trailed a hand along the numerous weapons lining the wall. She chose a vibroblade, and hefted it with a deep sense of satisfaction at what was to come.


	12. Dock, Drift

**A/N: **I apologize for the delay. A mild case of writer's block hit me, and this chapter just didn't want to get written. _  
><em>

The EU is quite clear that Mara does have a set of morals, no matter how warped they may be. Here I explored how those morals could have begun to take shape.

__Thanks to everyone who is following this story and reviewing. The last few reviews were one of the main reasons I was able to fight through the writer's block to get this chapter published.

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><p><strong>Dock, Drift<strong>_  
><em>

_Her lightsaber was the only light in the room, a haze of red that glowed across his face. The hilt thrummed in her hands. It would be the work of a split-second to slice through him – a blink, and he would be gone. _

_ He wouldn't be able to identify her. He'd never seen her face, and probably didn't even know what species she was since she'd made sure to cover herself from head to toe. There was no reason to kill him._

_ There was no reason to let him live, either. _

_ She nudged him with her foot. He was out cold. _

_ Her lightsaber blade hovered inches above his face. _

Chief studied her report with narrowed eyes.

"How much time would you estimate it took for you to get to the room after you left the main hall?"

Mara tipped her head to the side, tracking through memories. "Maybe twenty minutes. The blueprints I had weren't entirely correct: the window to the room with the safe was about two meters higher than I expected, and I ran out of handholds, so I had to go through a different window one floor below. That set me back about two minutes. And then the droids..."

"Yes, that was unfortunate. And those extra two minutes could have made the situation a bigger mess than it already was. I hope you learned to never trust any information that you haven't personally verified."

She sighed, still irritated with herself. "Yeah. It was stupid to rely on old documents."

Chief tapped on the datapad, starting a new page. She watched his eyes as they scanned her report. The room was silent for a long moment – until he frowned, and said, "There was a human guard with the droids."

"Yes," she answered.

"You rendered him unconscious. And then..."

_One of the mangled droids threw off a shower of sparks as its power supply made one last attempt at driving the circuits, and she flinched away from the sudden glare. Her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness – the sparks left little ghosts that danced in her vision. She shook them away, and looked again at the unconscious guard. _

_ Young. Probably only about ten years older than she was. And not very good with a blaster. _

_ Her hand itched for action, but she didn't know which way to direct it – down, to tip the blade into his throat? Or away, one flick of the thumb to shut off the blade..._

_ Did it really matter?_

She clenched her jaw. Chief looked up and met her eye. "Any particular reason you left him alive?"

_She pressed the switch, and the room was again in darkness. Something deep inside her seemed to shift, to release. Decision made. Mara didn't second-guess herself. She stepped over the guard and made her way to the safe, eager to get back downstairs now that the alarm had been sounded. The faster she got back to the party, the less suspicious it would seem..._

_ She didn't hesitate in the doorway, but in the guest room, as she pulled her dress back on and hid her other clothes in the back corner of the closet, she caught herself wondering if she'd made the right decision to let the guard live. The Emperor was not known for his mercy, and neither was his Hand._

_ 'It wasn't mercy,' she corrected herself silently. _

Mara resisted the urge to look away. She cocked her head slightly to the side, and tried to maintain an air of detachment. "I had no reason to kill him. He didn't pose a threat to the mission."

It was the same line she'd repeated to herself the night of the theft, when she had laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking back on all the ways the mission could have been perfected. The face of the young guard kept appearing in her mind's eye. She didn't know what to think about him. She didn't know what she was supposed to feel.

It hadn't been mercy. Just...

"You did well, Mara. We are given the discretion to take any life necessary, but we are not savages. Your conduct reflects well on the Empire. Dismissed."

Standing outside Chief's office, alone in the pristine white hallway, she slumped against the wall and choked back a sigh of relief.


	13. Elementary

**A/N: **And I'm back! I'll be honest and admit that my muse for this story has packed her bags and gone on holiday - ergo the slow updates. But, we're getting closer to some of the more familiar and interesting events in Mara's life, so I hope the story will pick up again soon. I wanted to show Mara being cool and awesome some more. Sometimes she's portrayed as being so hotheaded that she compromises her work, which, in my opinion, is lousy characterization and just plain illogical. Yes, she has a temper - and yes, she knows how not to let it interfere with her work. We'll being seeing more of that later on.

I'm really quite stunned by the reviews thus far. I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed and who is following this story. It's really helped me scrape together a few chapters when all inspiration seemed to have deserted me.

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><p><strong>Elementary<strong>

"Do you know who I am?"

Straight teeth, stained slightly red – _addict –_ gleamed from behind thin lips.

_Human. Thirty-two standard years old. Hair: brown. Eyes: blue. Height: 180 centimeters. Weight: …_

Mara flicked her eyes down his body once.

_Weight: approximately 75 kilograms. Coruscanti. Two hundred and thirty-three charges for murder; three hundred and twenty-two charges for transport of illegal substances; four hundred and sixty charges for assault; fourteen charges for conspiracy to commit an act of terrorism. Wanted in six systems. _

He wasn't all that much to look at, considering.

"I hear you know a thing or two about explosives."

"Little girl, I know a _lot _about explosives."

"I'm willing to pay generously for your help."

"How did you find me?"

His eyes were hard. His face, lined with wrinkles. Nobody survives long at the top of the criminal food chain, and she could tell he had been living in constant fear for his safety for a number of years now. Tired. Stubborn. Smart. About to lose interest in this conversation.

Mara slowly ran a hand through her hair, as if a nervous affectation, making sure to expose the length of her neck, and watched from the corner of her eye as his gaze followed the movement. And then his eyes met hers again, and they were harder than before.

"I don't play those kind of games, sweetheart. _How did you find me._"

She swallowed. "It was worth a shot."

"You have five seconds to answer the question."

There was a whisper of metal against cloth. Mara swallowed again. "Just...I know a guy, okay? Max. He told me how I could get in touch with you."

"Oh. Max." A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Not exactly a friend."

"Yeah," she laughed, somewhat breathlessly. "I got that impression. But Imperial credits go a long way in our business."

He said nothing. His stare was blank.

Mara cleared her throat and continued. "So, about this job-"

"Not interested."

"W-what?"

"Not interested," he repeated, eyebrows lifted. "I don't know who you are. I don't do 'business' with people I don't know. And I don't care-" he said as she opened her mouth again, "how many Imperial credits you've got to burn. Get out now if you want to leave in one piece, and don't ever try to contact me again."

He pinned her with the same stare he'd been giving her the entire meeting, with perhaps a bit more impatience in it than before. Mara nodded quickly. "Um...yeah, okay. Okay. Sorry."

She stood up, stumbling a little when the chair didn't want to slide back - gave him an anxious, apologetic look - and then, still not quite straightened from her seat, she flicked her wrist, felt a compact blaster slide into her palm, and shot him square in the forehead.

His body slumped back. The blaster he'd been holding underneath the table slipped from his hand and thumped against the floor.

Mara strapped her own weapon back into its wrist holster and made a quick search of the body and the room. Two minutes later, she pressed an ear against the door, listening, stretching out with her senses – at least one...maybe three bodyguards. Taking them down would create too much noise. That exit was no good.

She ground her teeth together and glared at the window.

Oh, she was getting tired of falling out of buildings.

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><p>The sparring room was packed. Two mats were occupied, with two men on each – all from the Imperial Guard – locked in hand-to-hand combat. Troopers from the Special Forces were gathered around each mat, watching in complete silence. The sound of flesh against bone and cartilage echoed in the small room. Each mat was already slick with blood.<p>

Mara was in no mood to play spectator. She'd come here for a quick match, and since that wasn't going to happen-

"Heard about you and the Valley." She paused at the door and turned. An SF trooper, a colonel, was standing next to her, still focused on the training mat closest to them. "Taking down one of the Core's biggest crime rings all by yourself. And quite violently, too, if you believe the rumors." He peered at her from the corner of his eye. A smirk just barely lifted one side of his mouth. "What did they do to set you off, Jade?"

She stared at the door. "They were the ones behind the assassination attempt on the Emperor."

Silence. She looked over at the colonel, who was staring at her with his mouth hanging slightly open. He closed it into a grim line. His eyes went hard. "We never heard about an attempt," he said quietly.

Mara worked her jaw, suppressing the pride that suddenly spiked through her breast. The colonel had gone completely still - icy, dangerous. She ran her tongue over her full bottom lip and said, as she pushed open the door to walk out, "Then I guess that's why I was the one who took care of it."


	14. Extrinsic

**A/N: ** In this chapter, Mara starts to get some more of that frayed edge she had when we first met her in Zahn's trilogy. I can't imagine any person going through what Mara has gone through without suffering at least some psychological (and thus physiological) consequences. Throw some Force sensitivity into the mix, and I think you'd get an interesting combination.

Thanks again to all who have reviewed and are following this story!

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><p><strong>Extrinsic<br>**

Her manner of waking is a small twitch of her neck, and eyes opened brightly, wide (as if a switch has been flipped from Sleep to Awake), and one hand clutching the air to stop an imaginary fall. This isn't normal. It is not routine. This morning, she had a nightmare.

She blinks, and sees the afterimage of yellow eyes and black shadows and a green lightsaber blade. It is still dark outside. She looks to her right at the wall chrono. Dawn is one hour away.

She runs through the mental list of things she's supposed to accomplish today: hand-to-hand combat training first thing, then a meeting with the captain of the Royal Guard (problem with the Palace Security simulation they ran yesterday, a weakness found, minor but nothing is minor when it comes to the Emperor's safety), and then packing – she leaves tomorrow for the Meridian Sector. The mission is simple, pure information-gathering. Boring, but not as boring as the prelude: a private party this evening at a senator's residence, where she's supposed to dance and look dumb and keep her ears open.

She glances again at the chrono and then stares at the ceiling. One hour and forty-two minutes until she has to report to Intel Center Command for her sparring lesson. A non-human partner would be nice. She requested a Wookie weeks ago because she needs the challenge - worries about not being the best, about not being prepared for everything - but for whatever reason ICC hasn't come through yet. Maybe today will be the day.

She rolls over and stretches her arms out in front of her to the point of trembling with the tension, and -

And feels something. Something deep, in the pit of her stomach, something tight and cold. Anxiety. No – worry, _no_.

Fear.

Solid, and _certain_, as if it is an appointment she must not be late for.

She sits up and grabs the edge of her thin, hard mattress. She does not panic. She runs through the list of possible threats and dismisses them all. There is nothing tangible to be afraid of. The feeling is fading as quickly as it came, but her confusion lingers. She puts a hand to her forehead and almost tries to reach out for her Master before remembering the early hour. A second later, her own pride settles in to make the decision final: she doesn't need to tell anyone. The fear is an anomalous sensation. A fluke. Human emotions are slippery, changeable things, and she knows she is no less vulnerable than anyone else to the tricks the mind can play. Just chemical reactions and sparking neurons. Maybe all the anxiety over her recent missions is starting to wear a path in her brain, just like the psych physicians warned her might happen. _Stress can start to fray your edges long before you're aware of it_, they'd told her. _Be prepared for some odd moments. You may feel...outside yourself every once in a while. _

She takes a deep breath. Glances again at the chrono.

Thirty-two minutes have passed.

The cold feeling in her stomach turns to ice because she has never lost time like that. _Never._

Before scanning the intra-holo network for recent security alerts, before the routine of getting dressed and going through her stretches and a nutri-bar and two glasses of water, she skims the ICC's directory of medical personnel on her datapad. Her finger hovers over a name, a suite number...

And then she shuts it off and tosses the datapad onto a nearby chair. Grits her teeth. Takes another deep, deep breath.

Later that night, while she takes a break away from the other dancers, she leans against a cold wall and closes her eyes, and on the black canvas of her lids, she sees twin yellow suns, and a blade of acid-green light throwing shadows into the corners of a room she's never been in.


	15. Put Down Roots In These Forsaken Fields

**A/N: **I hope the length of this chapter (um, relative to the other chapters, that is) makes up a bit for the slow updates. I was fascinated by something mentioned in the Wookiepedia entry on Mara, something about a distant memory of a broken falling-star globe. I wondered how much of her past Mara really remembers. How much does she _want _to remember? Mostly, though, this is about her being awesome at her job.

I know very little about snipers and their skill, but whatever seems inaccurate here can simply be dismissed with my usual excuse: Star Wars technology is not like our own. I can take whatever liberties I please.

If you're following this story/reviewing: Thank you. Not one review goes unappreciated.

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><p><strong>Put Down Roots In These Forsaken Fields<strong>

She planned everything with great precision so that she wouldn't ever have to run. Running meant something had gone wrong. Running meant you had to make faster decisions, and _faster_ sometimes edged very close to _hasty. _The Emperor's Hand didn't make hasty decisions. She thought on her feet when needed, but running implied loss of control and that was absolutely out of the question.

There was no running today.

She had already been settled into her strictly-counted breathing rhythm for three hours. (_Seven counts in. Hold four. Thirteen counts out. Hold two. Relax, Mara. Relax. These breaths are unchangeable. They come and go like the sun and the moon. Steady. Steady.) _The wind had maintained its thirty knots push with a give and take of four knots. Her hair was pulled back so tightly that it stretched the skin of her cheeks, and the cap she wore over it dug into her forehead – not a single strand of hair could come loose. If one happened to fall into her vision when the time came to pull the trigger...

That wasn't going to happen. She'd taken every precaution.

_Seven counts in._

She'd checked her rifle twice - once last night and again this morning. She didn't believe a person could be too prepared, but she wasn't going to let herself get paranoid. Two checks – that was fine. If she'd missed something either time, then she deserved whatever screw-up happened.

She kept her eye trained through the targeting sights, and blinked very, very slowly.

_Hold four counts._

The wind gusted. Her gaze slipped slightly down and to the left to check the readout: thirty-three knots. Thin mountain air, below-freezing temperatures, a strong and constant wind – she tightened her hold on the rifle by the barest degree. Frost had nearly covered the barrel.

Lovely.

_Thirteen counts out._

Her legs were starting to cramp, but that was a familiar pain, one that could easily be ignored for a few hours more. Her thermals were keeping her plenty warm enough, which was a precaution that had nothing to do with personal comfort – if she got too cold, her teeth would begin to chatter and her hands would shake, and then all hope of a good shot would take a flying leap off the edge of the galaxy.

The crowd of people in the valley below were nothing but a smudge of black against the green grass, but through her scope she could clearly make out a petite woman dressed in silver.

_Hold two counts._

Silver tilted her head back. Her teeth flashed – she was laughing. Her wine glass was almost empty. The people around her smiled.

_Seven counts in._

There was no scheduled time for the speech to begin. Poison would have been much simpler. A knife, thrown from the shadows of the dignitary's bedroom would have been so, _so _much easier. But Mara had wanted a challenge, and Vader had wanted to send a particular kind of message (the Dark Lord doesn't do subtlety, but she's not complaining, not this time at least). So here she was, stretched out on her stomach on the edge of a mountain on some backwater planet that no one outside a special circle of Imperial elite cared about, getting slowly consumed by frost, waiting for a laughing woman to _put down the wine glass and just get up on the blasted podium already..._

But this was what she'd wanted. The challenge. The trial. A 4500 meter shot in extreme conditions. Careful planning from beginning to end. The wait. The kill. And then the methodical packing and departure.

_Hold four counts._

No running.

Her master had told her she needed to work on patience. She thought she was doing quite well, all things considered. Some mental cursing at her intended target was certainly not out of the way. She was tempted to sigh, but -

_Thirteen counts out._

The sky was starting to darken into the pink of early sunset. The soiree in the valley had been going on for three hours already, and was expected to move indoors before dusk, as the temperatures in this region dropped dramatically at nightfall. Which meant the woman in silver didn't have much longer to make her grand speech. She was supposed to talk about visionary leadership, about the vulnerability of certain star systems - the tender green grass of the valley, its wide open blue skies, was meant to serve as a (heavy-handed, in Mara's opinion) metaphor for the opportunities that awaited those who would only look beyond their simple, restricted service to the Emperor, and see for themselves what riches the galaxy had to offer those willing to strike out on their own...

Mara barely held her lip from curling back in a snarl.

_Hold two counts._

No, there would be no rushing, no running today. She was going to stick around and watch the aftermath, watch the devastation and the fear come over their faces when they realized that their plans were never going to succeed, that all their plotting and secrets had gotten them absolutely _nowhere_. This was child's play to the Emperor. Even Vader had found this scheme easy to sniff out.

_Seven counts in._

And her job – following the threads and whispers and turning them into facts, names, locations – had been almost painfully simple. Time-consuming, but simple. But this was where patience came in. Mara had given herself a near-impossible challenge, and she was going to do what she absolutely hated: sit still and do nothing.

For six hours.

All for a shot that could be made much at much closer range, and in much better conditions. Patience, her master had said.

Patience.

The wind gusted again. Thirty-two knots. Her rifle adjusted itself automatically with a near-silent _whir _and _click._

Through the scope, Mara could see the woman finally hand over her glass and make her way to the dais.

_Hold four counts._

What followed was no longer thought – it was instinct, a waterfall of memories engrained in every muscle, from her fingers to her stomach to her feet. She stiffened from the sternum down and relaxed just slightly from the shoulders. Her fingers slowly pressed into the rifle, tightening, taking relentless control of the trigger and the grip.

_Thirteen counts out._

Mara gave the woman enough time to get well into her speech. The wind gusted once more – she paused, and when it died down, she dragged her finger millimeter by millimeter toward her, pulling against the trigger, breathing out, out, out -

The sound of the laser bolt pierced the mountain air and echoed in the valley, and through her scope, Mara could see the silver dress scorched black and turned to tatters.

_Hold two counts._

The small crowd of Imperials (_traitors_) scattered as panic tore through them. Mara gave herself ten minutes to watch them, and when her time was up – when she'd satisfied herself with their terror and helplessness – she released the rifle, slowly rolled onto her back, and breathed out a laugh at the mountain peaks towering above.

Her muscles, stiff and tense from the hours of tight motionlessness, were twitching and shaking. She stretched as she stared up at the pale blue sky, grinning with abandon at her success and trying as hard as she could to send her satisfaction across the stars, into her Master's waiting mind. There was no response, but that was not unusual, especially for a mission that was his second-in-command's rather than his own. The mission itself had not been particularly challenging – but the manner in which she had gone about it, the dogged determination she'd had to carry out each step according to the lessons her master had given her, willing herself to exercise patience, restraint, self-denial – that was what would make the Emperor proud.

Mara stared up at the white peaks and felt as though a mountain of her own had been climbed and conquered.

The sky continued to darken over the valley, turning orange and red, while the skies above the mountaintops – directly over her head - became obscured by mist. She felt the temperature dropping swiftly, but couldn't bring herself to move just yet. There was no danger in lingering. She'd planned this too well – nobody would be looking for a sniper three miles away, latched onto the mountainside.

The cold wind howled through the range. The cloud cover seemed to settle mere inches from her face. When the last of the fire died from the western sky, a snowflake twirled lazily through the mist and sparkled into nothing just before it landed on her cheek.

One by one, and then by twos and threes, now in scattered clusters they fell, coating the cliff, dissolving and creating layers of gossamer on her equipment and clothes. What few snowflakes did land on her face were melted in an instant, too delicate to withstand the heat of her skin. For a long, silent hour, Mara was encased in a falling-star globe, and she watched, entranced, as the sky shook out its storehouse of glittering ice.

Something stirred in her memory. Something long-ago, mostly faded and gone, the last thread of an abandoned spider's web, glimmering in the darkness of her past. Something soft and bright falling. A glass globe in her hands. Fascination, and free-fall.

Broken glass at her feet.

A voice saying indecipherable, angry things at her back.

She shut her eyes and fought for the memory – her _father_, it had to be, why couldn't she keep this one thing – but it faded like the sunset into night, and when she opened her eyes, all she saw was the dark mountain mist.

A burning pain tightened within her breast. She climbed to her feet, packed her rifle and survival gear, and picked her way down the rocks, fighting through the wind and the snow and the terrible and sudden urge to run away and never, ever look back.


End file.
